...
I had bumped into something approximating a "normal" sleep cycle from the whole freakout that shot me across the country and back in the decade-long month. I knew it wouldn't last, but it lasted longer than I thought it would. It lasted long enough that I have been loath to take a chill pill to try to bump myself back on it, but it gets to the point where my lack of quality sleep starts making my electricity miss its target, billows out left and right from it's destination across the synaptic clefts and there's just blur here in my place.
It's kind of good for a little while, automatically takes me out of monkey mind and lets me contemplate my little cosmos of recondite notions. Very autistic. Extremely pleasing. But by-and-by it gets so the lights are out even though there's still somebody home.
So I took a chill pill early last evening.
Immediately, I was battered by a tsunami of dreams, one of which was salient to my smoking buddy's current dilemma. His car was stolen and now he thinks they might not be done with him. Notwithstanding I know full well the insult of such a disaster befalling one, how much worse it is on the spirit than merely the loss, how it immediately makes you feel like being itself doesn't want you on its kickball team, I have not felt sympathetic enough.
I was shopping with somebody. I can't quite remember who she was, but it seems to me she was somebody who's turned mean from her decades of not really being famous enough for her sense of herself, but more famous than her attitude merits, and we were finally getting to have some quality time together where she wasn't being bitchy in her stupid battle with the perceived lack of deference to her rarefied sensibilities by the world. We had been getting fun things out of esoteric stores and putting them in our chic bags. I'd put mine down while I was manhandling some prospectively perfect item and then headed off to the gourmet grocery store with her, when I realized I no longer had my bag.
I told her I was going to go back to where I remembered putting it down, and would meet her back here later. But my bag was not where I'd left it. I went back to where we'd walked past a mob of kids hanging out on a stair and asked them if they'd seen my bag. A girl popped up and told me the name of the guy who'd taken it.
I went around yelling the guy's name. He foolishly answered. I went and smacked him around energetically, making him cough up my stuff, a great deal of trouble digging my bag out from all the bags he'd stolen, but I was standing over him and making him put the whole thing back together right for me.
This was right after I'd dropped off to lahlah land, one of the bits of the REM backed up behind a fortnight's dam, and then I slept peacefully through until dawn.
always and any time....
